Too many Mets in Topps Top 60? Blame Topps -- and go deeper to find other teams

Difficult accusations have been made about the legitimacy of our countdown of the Topps Top 60 Cards of All Time.

It appears there are some people, mostly my fellow cardboard crusader, who believe that my list is too Mets-centric, and that I have ignored cards of other players simply because they played for other teams.

This is shocking. Shocking, I tell you.

Upon review it does appear that the Mets have been blessed with a number of quality cards, at least in the section of the count between No. 60 and 31.

Hey, blame Topps! It’s not my fault the Brooklyn-based company apparently rises to the occasion when it has to produce a Mets card.

And it’s Topps fault that the company only listed its top 60. I’m fairly certain that there were a number of cards depicting non-Mets in slots from No. 61 to 80.
What? Trust, but verify?

Sigh. If you insist.

Let’s pause the count at No. 31, set back a little and see what might have been included in the countdown had Topps asked voters to rank cards starting at No. 80.


No. 80, 1973 Bob Didier.

See, there you go. The 1973 set had some amazing action shots, and some rather distant and unusual ones, too. This is one of the best, with the Braves catcher looking up to the umpire to see the call after attempting to put the tag on a player who looks suspiciously like Cleon Jones of the Mets.


No. 79, 1991 Roger Clemens.

Clemens used to be a good pitcher before he turned into an alleged roid-using, bat-tossing, wife-blaming, Canada-dissing, McNamee-bashing, All-Star-game trashing weasel. Allegedly. But this card is a classic.


No. 78, 1995 Larry Walker

The 1995 Topps set is both wonderful and terrible. The photos are among the very best the company has ever produced. Great portraits, awesome actions shots and even some collages. But the gold foil writing makes it darn near impossible to read the players’ names. This shot of Larry Walker going all Swoboda is magnificent.


No. 77, 1952 Gus Zernial

Will loves this card, and for good reason. “Ozark Ike” is posing with six balls stuck on his bat, commemorating the six homers he hit over the course of three games. Zernial is from Beaumont, Texas where I spent a week last year. But he retired to Fresno, Calif. in the early 1960s. Fresno, of course, produced some amazing players, which leads to:


No. 76, 1982 Tom Seaver In Action

Seaver is back at Shea, where he never should have left, in this action shot. True fact: Seaver doesn’t appear in a Reds home uniform in any of his base cards. Perhaps Topps was signaling that home was always in New York even if he played half his games in Cincy.


No. 75, 2005 Craig Biggio

Speaking of people who call New York home, future Hall-of-Famer Biggio also is depicted at Shea. The pride of Smithtown is attempting to put the tag on David Segui.


No. 74, 1973 Tommie Agee

In yet another game at Shea, Tommie Agee is seen patrolling centerfield. I don’t know how I missed this transaction, but apparently the Mets also traded Rusty Staub and Ken Boswell to the Astros, too.

No. 73, 1986 Tom Seaver All-Star set

These were cards that were included in rack packs. Topps didn’t use too many action photos of Seaver when he played for the White Sox, so this one is a rare treat.


No. 72, 1987 Tom Seaver

Seaver sure did find his way into some really great cards. Red Sox Nation embraced Tom’s mid-season arrival, and he led them all the way to the World Series – which the team lost to the Mets. Luckily for the Mets, Seaver was injured and couldn’t compete.


No. 71, 1971 Johnny Bench

Will loves this card, and it’s easy to see why. His man JB is in his classic batting pose in the quirky yet awesome 1971 set. It’s a beautiful card. And he was Tom Seaver’s catcher, too.


No. 70, 1992 Cal Ripken Jr.

My brother played catch with Cal Sr. Really. We had credentials for a game at Memorial Stadium, and Cal Sr. was hitting fungoes. A throw back got away and ended up at my brother’s feet. Cal asked him to throw it back. He did, and I’m forever jealous. This shot shows Cal Jr. about to break a record held by a Yankee, so that’s all good.


No. 69, 1982 Tom Seaver All-Star

Man, we are looking at a serious Mets drought here. The slackers at Topps are openly dissing the Mets at this point. Just like the Cy Young voters dissed Seaver, giving what should have been Tom’s fourth award to Fernando Valenzuela.


No. 68, 1972 Willie Mays

This a near-perfect card for a near-perfect player in a near-perfect set. And during this season, Willie would be headed to Shea.


No. 67, 1961 Bill Mazeroski World Series

Mazeroski was a phenomenal fielder, but his most glorious moment was a walk-off home run in the 1960 World Series that sent the vile Yankees packing. He earned his Hall of Fame plaque right there, even it took them years to give it to him.


No. 66, 1973 Hank Aaron

Card No. 1 in one of Topps’ all-time best sets is devoted to the home run king, the only time Topps has done a card like this.


No. 65, 1984 Traded Set Tom Seaver

After the ordeal of losing Seaver the first time, losing our hero through a front office blunder was just brutal. The 1984 base set card is probably a top-10 card, this late-season inclusion is good, too, uniform not withstanding.


No. 64, 1992 Frank Thomas

Frank’s awesome, and this card – using a photo from Sports Illustrated – is perhaps his very best. After the absolute disaster that was the 1990 set, Topps rebounded nicely.


No. 63, 1979 Tom Seaver

A great action pose, and a rare back shot, with the big 41 and last name there for all to see.


No. 62, 1972 Roberto Clemente

Talk about your heroes. Clemente would have a card in the 1973 set, but of course he died before the calendar flipped to that year. Head down and tossing a ball in the air, Roberto almost looks sad. Knowing what we know now, it fits. But I wonder what the reaction was in 1972.


No. 61, 1956 Jackie Robinson

Jackie’s a national hero, and a de facto Met given the front entrance to Citi Field. This card’s a national treasure, too. Jackie’s big smile and the background artwork all are brilliant.

Whoa! We made it all the way without a single Met in there. That was a long streak with a bunch of Reds, a couple Astros, a number of Sox both White and Red, some Braves and even Pirates, Dodgers, Giants and Astros! You guys shouldn’t have doubted me!

Happy birthday, Tom Seaver!

"The Franchise" turns 66 today. How are you celebrating?

Greg Prince of the always fabulous Faith and Fear in Flushing counts some of the reasons why this should be a national holiday.

Topps Top 60 Cards part 3: Music, milestones and a mascot

Continuing our march through the top 60 Topps cards of all time, it appears that this third installment also happens to include a fair number of cards from a certain, Queens-based baseball team.


No. 40: 1972 Jim Fregosi Boyhood Photo
Jim Fregosi: All-Star infielder, killer accordion player. Trading Nolan Ryan probably made a lot more sense to fans once this card came out and they learned that Fregosi was a man of many skills. Most of the boyhood cards in the magnificent 1972 set showed the players in their Little League uniforms. Not Fregosi. No, he’s brandishing that massive accordion, ready to burst out a lethal version of “Lady of Spain.” And the crazy thing is the back of the card details Jim youth league exploits and never once mentions his apparent musical skills.


No. 39: 2006 Oliver Perez
Perez is one of those players who seem to always have a sharp-looking action card. But I like this one best. Because if Ollie is on the bench, then he’s not in the game, walking the bases loaded and then giving up a grand slam. The odds of the Mets winning increase dramatically if Ollie is not playing.


No. 38: 1979 Ed Kranepool
In the days when card companies released only one set a year, Steady Eddie undoubtedly held the record for most appearances on cardboard by a Met. But 1979 was the last of his 18 seasons. This photo almost looks like Krane is tipping his cap to fans saluting him for a fine career.


No. 37: 1973 Yogi Berra
Topps rarely added coaches to the manager cards, and it was nice to see Rube Walker, Roy McMillin, Eddie Yost and Joe Pignatano getting some recognition in the 1973 and 1974 sets.


No. 36: 1989 Lenny Dykstra
I met Dykstra at a card show in Manhattan around the time this card came out. He seemed really nice when I asked him too sign my Mets book, and to add his nickname “Nails.” He did – and spelled it wrong, realized the error and tried to fix it. Sharpies are unforgiving. He sheepishly slid the book back across the table.


No. 35: 2007 Mr. Met
Topps started to give Mr. Met and less-worthy mascots some love the Opening Day sets. Note the assistant with the T-shirt launcher. I’m reminded of the television ad with Mr. Met sneaking into the empty stands before a game and launching shirts at an unsuspecting grounds crew member, then attempting to duck behind a seat. “Dude, I can see like 80 percent of your head!”


No. 34: 1964 Jim Hickman
The 1962 Mets were a collection of faded stars, the under-skilled and a few youngsters with some potential. Count Hickman in the last category. He was a solid player and holds some milestones, including being the first Met to hit for the cycle. He hit the last homer in the Polo Grounds and was the first Met to hit three homers in one game. He also was the last of the original Mets. Hickman later represented the Cubs in the 1970 All-Star Game and smashed the 12th-inning hit that drove Pete Rose around third and barreling into Ray Fosse.


No. 33: 1976 Rusty Staub
This portrait of a smiling Daniel Joseph Staub makes it pretty clear how he came to be known as “Rusty,” and “Le Grande Orange,” hero to Canadians. Alas, Staub was know by another name by the time this card came out: Detroit Tiger right fielder. Yet another bad trade by the Mets, and incoming Mickey Lolich didn’t even play the accordion.


No. 32: 2000 Robin Ventura
Ventura’s Grand Slam Single in the rain during the 15th inning of Game 5 of the 1999 NLCS is easily one of the Mets most glorious post-season memories. But there have actually been two other grand slam singles, though none as dramatic. In 1970, the Tigers’ Dalton Jones accidently passed teammate Don Wert while rounding the bases. And on July 4, 1976 Fox broadcaster and know-it-all Tim McCarver must have been too enthralled by the bicentennial celebration because he passed teammate Garry Maddox. As for Ventura, the lighting on this 2000 card is just perfect.


No. 31: 1969 Nolan Ryan
And we close out the first third of our countdown with Nolan Ryan, before he was traded for a musician. Look closely at Nolan’s glove. That would be the ball nestled in the webbing. Ryan was famous for his blazing fastball, supposedly throwing so hard that batters could barely see it. Or, as this card suggests, Ryan was just really good at the old hidden ball trick.

Top 60 Topps cards of all time, part 2

We’re back with Part 2 of the countdown to the top 60 Topps baseball cards of all time. So far, all of the cards happened to be of Mets players. Let’s see if this trend continues.


No. 50: 2007 Bowman Heritage Joe Smith
Smith became a fan favorite as a rookie, coming out of the pen with his unusual side-arm delivery and knee-buckling pitches. Alas, he went to the Indians as part of the great bullpen purge and has been steady if not unspectacular for the past two seasons –meaning the Mets have missed him greatly. This is a fun card because Topps inserted city scenes in the backgrounds. Joe has Coney Island’s glorious Wonder Wheel for all to see. And the end of the 2007 season made a lot of Mets fans want to hurl, kind of like after you hop into one of the swinging cars in the Wonder Wheel after downing a couple dogs at Nathan's.


No. 49: 1996 Pete Harnisch
Harnisch got points for being from Commack and being a decent enough pitcher on some crappy mid-90s Mets teams. He’s famous for a couple other things, like being one of only 26 pitchers to strike out a side on just nine pitches. He also went public with his battle with clinical depression while pitching with the Mets in 1997. He’s also got and unusual pitching motion, which this card captures perfectly.


No. 48: 2000 Brian Cole
Of course we’ll never know if Cole would have become the great ballplayer we all expected him to be. He died from injuries suffered on at the end of spring training in 2001, when his Ford Explorer Sport veered off State Highway 8 in Florida and rolled over. But we know for sure that even at his young age, Cole knew how to pose for a baseball card. This portrait is one of the best in the set.


No. 47: 1967 Mets Maulers
Topps would occasionally slip into sets neat shots of more than one player, based around a theme. Casey Stengel and Gene Woodling were on a “Veteran Masters” card in 1963, and the next year Casey was joined by Ed Kranepool for a “Casey Teaches” card. Kranepool must have been a prized student of the “Ole Professor” because he appeared again in 1967 with Ron Swoboda on a card optimistically called “Mets Maulers.” Truth be told, the Mets of that era were more likely on the receiving end of a mauling. But this is still a fun card of two young Mets.


No. 46: 1994 Stadium Club David Segui
Segui offered a somewhat subpar year for the Mets in 1994, hitting .241 with 10 home runs. The next year he improved nicely to a robust .309 batting average with a bunch more doubles and triples. Now sometimes when a player makes a nice little boost like that, people throw around an ugly word, and that word is steroids. Often, such players play for the Yankees. There are some people who run around saying Segui confessed to taking such things. I think Segui is mistaken, because everybody knows Mets would never take steroids. That said, I really like this dugout portrait.


No. 45: 1991 Sid Fernandez
Topps bounced back from the total disaster that was the 1990 set with one of the company’s better offerings in 1991. El Sid notched his best season with the Mets in 1986, going 16-6 and a masterful relief performance in Game Seven of the World Series. But the 1991 season of this card was a disaster, with Sid breaking his arm in spring training, returning in July then breaking down again with knee problems in September. The horizontal card from that season, however, is Sid’s best.


No. 44: 1997 Stadium Club John Olerud
The Mets starting rising from the 1990s slump late in the decade, and the 1997 arrival of John Olerud was one of the reasons why. His .358 batting average in 1998 is a team record, and his sparkling defense was one of the reasons by Sports Illustrated parked Olerud on the cover with Edgardo Alfonzo, Rey Ordonez and Robin Ventura with the title “The Greatest Infield Ever?” Amazingly, Yankee hack Tom Verducci did not quit in protest.


No. 43: 2008 Shea Stadium
The Mets home, in its final year, was granted a card of its own in a special Mets set. A curious choice for a photo, we get an exterior shot with an empty parking lot, save for a couple of New York’s Finest walking through. It’s even hard to make out the iconic neon players.


No. 42: 1987 Randy Myers
Myers had cups of coffee with the 1985 and 1986 teams, but came into his own in 1987, even finishing sixth in the Rookie of the Year balloting. This pre-Nasty Boys era photo of Randall K. in is batting practice jersey shows just how good the Mets might look had they adopted blue alternative jerseys instead of the goofy black ones.

No. 41: 1976 Tom Seaver
You didn’t think some other player would be allowed to carry the honor of being No. 41, did you? There might be a couple Seavers on this list. The 1976 shot shows Tom in a classic spring training, baseball card pose. There might not even be a ball in his hand, but he’s probably not going to fire a pitch from the on-deck circle anyway. I remember pulling this card in the very first pack of cards I opened that year, and decided that I’d never have to buy another until 1977. That rule lasted maybe a day.

Picking the Topps top 60, part 1

Silly Topps.

The venerable baseball card maker is asking collector to vote on the company's top 60 cards of all time.

Sounds like fun, except the company made some serious mistakes. It limits voting to 100 pre-selected cards, and only five of them are Mets! Worse than that, there are a bunch of Yankees in there, even Derek F. Jeter!

This will not do.

So I’ve been sorting through my binders of Topps cards to create a true top 60, and asked the fine folks at the Crane Pool Forum to send their suggestions, too.

First we have to determine what, exactly, makes a baseball card great. Topps seemed to cling to its more valuable cards, or most notorious, in the case of the Jeter “error” with Mantle and President Bush photo shopped in the background. Clearly the shot was faked because it was taken at a day game, and Mick doesn’t look hungover.

But in my eyes, there are many factors that go into creating a great card. It can have a great player, but it can have a great photo of an average player. Sometime the design just pulls everything together like Lebowski’s rug. And sometimes a card just instantly transports you back to a special time or brings a smile to your face.

So here, working backwards, is the top 60 Topps cards of all time, part 1.


No. 60: 1962 Ed Bouchee

Bouchee certainly was not the best of the 1962 Mets, appearing in only 60 games and batting just .161. But his card is historic, marking the first time the Mets full uniform appeared in a Topps set. Since the team was new , Topps relied heavily on its “big head, no hat” shots for Mets that year. Only two players, who appeared in a later series, are shown wearing the beautiful Mets uniform. Don Zimmer, who lasted just 14 games, is wearing his Mets cap. But Bouchee has the only card showing a whole uniform.


No. 59: 1979 Nino Espinosa

This a fun card because it’s cool in a “so bad that it’s good” sort of way. There’s a lot going on here. It’s not Topps' best design, to be sure. And the brown design just doesn’t work for the Mets. Nino’s cap can barely contain his afro. But I want to know what’s going on with his uniform number. Why is there so much space between the 3 and the 9? It’s not like the clubhouse manager at the time was distracted with gambling and illicit memorabilia sales. Alas, now that Nino is regretfully playing ball in the Iowa cornfields, we'll never know.


No. 58: 2005 Mike Cameron

Cameron was an amazing centerfielder, and graciously tried moving to right when Carlos Beltran came on board. Their collision certainly ranks among the scariest moments in Mets history. But here’s Mike flashing some of his famous leather, diving in a great horizontal card.


No. 57: 1965 Warren Spahn

Warren Spahn was one of the greatest pitchers of all time and he was a Met. This is proof. And it’s a rare player-coach card, too. I always associate it with another player-coach card from that set, which would be…


No. 56: 1965 Yogi Berra

Typical Yankees. All Yogi did was complete his Hall of Fame career, then manage the team to the World Series – and get fired. Yogi then came to the Mets for a couple at-bats, then retired again to join the coaching staff, eventually to manage.


No. 55: 2005 Bazooka Matt Lindstrom

The Bazooka sets were one of Topps’ attempts to bring kids back into the hobby. And Lindstrom never made it to the Mets, traded to the Marlins with Henry Owens for Adam Bostick and Jason Vargas. Not Omar’s best deal. But Lindstrom has an absolute gun for an arm – some might say a bazooka – and here’s a batter’s view of a high hard one coming to the plate.


No. 54: 2007 Opening Day Orlando Hernandez

I love when teams wear throwback jerseys, and we all have a warm spot in our hearts for the racing stripes. This card of “El Duque” shows him saluting the 1986 champs, complete with the 25th anniversary patch. The base set that year had black borders. I chose the Opening Day set because I like the white better, especially with this photo.


No. 53: 1999 Stadium Club Rey Ordonez

Rey couldn’t hit a lick and said some stupid things near the end of his tenure, but he sure could field. This card shows it. This must have been John Olerud's point of view!


No. 52: 1966 Choo Choo Coleman

It is among the best quotes in the history of the Mets.

Ralph, exasperated: “So Choo Choo, what’s your wife’s name, and tell me what she’s like.”

Choo Choo: “Her name’s Mrs. Coleman, and she likes me, Bub.”

I love Choo Choo’s smile in this photo.


No. 51: 1988 Topps Big Gary Carter

Gary Carter was a smiling catcher, too. But he was a much better interview. These Big series recall the glorious 1956 set.

That’s the end of part 1, and we’ll pick up the pace of postings. I’ve love to hear what cards you think should be in the top 50.

Reggie Jackson is right, there should be two Halls

I actually agree with Reggie Jackson about something.

Reggie and Ian O’Connor of ESPN-New York where having an otherwise nonsensical conversation about whether Yankee pitcher Andy Pettitte would have a clear path to Cooperstown if he would beat Cliff Lee in the ALCS game that night, which, of course, he did not.

O’Connor’s a Jeter-obsessed Yankee hack of the highest order, and it’s laughable that Pettitte would be in the Hall of Fame with his 3.88 career ERA, steroid confession, a mere three All-Star Game appearances and complete lack of awards.
And this goofy discussion included this line:

“But Jackson also believes there should be a second Hall of Fame for the real Hall of Famers. In other words, he believes there are too many ballplayers enshrined in Cooperstown, men who were too mortal on the playing field to be sculpted into bronze baseball gods.”

The problem is, Yankee hacks think all of their players – at least those deemed “True Yankees” -- are fit to be enshrined, even Derek F. Jeter! And because some of these hacks actually hang around long enough to get BBWAA ballots, a number of unworthy players have found themselves with plaques.

Reggie’s right. There should be two parts to the Hall of Fame. One would be for the Seavers, Aarons, Robinsons and the rest of the greatest players. The other would be for Yankees who are otherwise undeserving, but were enshrined anyway.

Reggie, the career leader in strikeouts, his underwhelming .262 batting average, and his abuse of a fan’s glorious Hall of Fame autograph ball, would be in the latter.

Alas, he’s hardly alone. When the Hall curators decide that they are too busy planning the Mike Piazza exhibit and need me to help sort out this new wing, here’s who I’d start ripping off the wall:

Phil Rizzuto: Let’s get this one out of the way. Rizzutto has 38 career home runs, just 1,588 career hits and a weak .272 average. Plus he’s got just 149 career steals. So he wasn’t fast, couldn’t hit for power and couldn’t hit for average. That must be why it took 38 years after his career ended before the Yankee hype machine could convince enough people on the Veterans Committee that Rizzuto was something more than a just an average player on a stacked team.

Joe Gordon: Gordon’s stats are even more pedestrian than Rizzuto’s. He retired in 1950, but he must have done something to make the numbers more convincing over the next 59 years to get him elected in 2009. That’s impressive, considering he died in 1978. And his plaque is among the most confusing. Sometimes the Hall lists the player’s nickname after his formal name, like “The Franchise” following George Thomas Seaver. But this one reads Joseph Lowell Gordon, “Joe,” “Flash.” Did the Hall really need to add “Joe” after a guy named Joseph?

Tony Lazzeri: Lazzeri played between 1926 and 1939. He was added to the Hall in 1991. If you have to wait 60 years before you think someone is worthy, he’s probably not worthy.

Earle Combs: A centerfielder, Combs is another guy the Vets snuck in 30 years after he stopped playing. He played only 11 years – just one over the minimum to be considered – because he was injured crashing into a wall in 1934 and into a teammate in 1935. Guess that’s good news for Jason Bay and Carlos Beltran.

Red Ruffing: Ruffing’s an unusual Yankee enshrinement because it took only 20 years for him to be elected. About the best you can say about his 3.80 ERA is that it’s slightly better than Andy Pettitte’s.

Rich Gossage: If Gossage was so good, then why did he bounce around to eight other teams? Oh, and so you wouldn’t be confused, the Hall noted that this guy named Richard also went by “Rich.”

Bill Dickey: The Yankees retire everyone’s number. I’m sure Boone Logan’s already planning his number retirement ceremony. But it took so long for the team to retire Dickey’s No. 8 that they had already given it away to Yogi Berra, who went on to glory as a Met.

Waite Hoyt: Typical Yankee induction, meaning that it took 32 years for mystique and aura to convince enough Veterans Committee that his .359 ERA and lackluster .565 winning percentage were something worthy of keeping company with Walter Johnson and Cy Young.

Herb Pennock: Pennock has 241 wins, which at least is one more than Andy Pettitte. And his 3.59 ERA is the same as Waite Hoyt’s. Guess that makes him your typical undeserving Yankee.

Lefty Gomez: Amazingly, it took only until only recently for the Hall of Fame to take action against a Veterans Committee that seemingly never met a Yankee it didn’t like. Gomez doesn’t even have 200 wins, and was slipped into the Hall after 29 years.

Whitey Ford: Like Pettitte, Ford’s a confessed cheater. From his Wikipedia entry – and you know Wikipedia is never inaccurate: “After his career ended, Ford admitted to occasionally cheating by doctoring baseballs in various ways, such as the "mudball," which could only be used at home in Yankee Stadium: Yankee groundskeepers would wet down an area near the catcher's box where Yankee catcher Elston Howard was positioned; pretending to lose balance on a pitch while in his crouch and landing on his right hand (with the ball in it), Howard would coat one side of the ball with mud. Ford would sometimes use the diamond in his wedding ring to gouge the ball, but he was eventually caught by an umpire and warned to stop; Howard then sharpened a buckle on his shinguard and used it to scuff the ball. Ford admitted in several interviews to doctoring the ball in the 1962 All Star Game at Candlestick Park to strike out Willie Mays.”

Mickey Mantle: Look, Mantle and Ford were known to be inseparable. If Ford was a confessed cheater, Mantle was, at best, an aider and abettor. Perhaps, when sober, Mick was the mastermind behind all the cheating. Mantle took those dark, dark secrets to the grave, so we'll never know for sure. I'll just assume the worst.

I’ll concede that Lou Gehrig was a decent enough player, and Babe Ruth gets in, no doubt on the strength of his fine seasons with the Red Sox and Braves. Manages McCarthy and Huggins are in because, well, you have to let an occasional manager in or they all get a little cranky. DiMaggio had a nice little hit streak that he parlayed into a lot of positive pub.

Casey Stengel was probably furious that there’s a Yankee cap on his Hall plaque cap instead of his properly glorious Mets cap. You can’t see Yogi Berra’s cap logo, so I’m assuming it’s the properly interlocking orange NY.

So that leaves, what, five legitimate Yankees in the Hall? At least Reggie – and possibly Pettitte and Jeter – will have plenty of company in their new wing.

Yes!

The booing of Derek Jeter

You have to realize that since my time covering Mickey Weston, I don’t boo athletes.
Except for two, that is.

Chipper Jones has simply inflicted too much damage on the Mets over the years to go without some sort of recognition, and we can’t exactly cheer him. But Chipper’s been broken down for the past several seasons, and it been a decade since he’s had Met blood on his hands.

The other, of course, is Derek F. Jeter.

Usually this booing occurs in the relative quite of my home. But Will and I had the rare opportunity to voice our displeasure to Jeter in person on Frank Thomas Day, and this is the final report of that adventurous afternoon.

Chipper earned his boos for doing his job, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jeter, however, is an on-going insult. He’s not just your basic Yankee, Jeter is Mr. Yankee, and truly is reflective of everything that is wrong with the franchise in the Bronx. Over-hyped, over-paid, over-exposed, over-credited and over-privileged.

We all know that the best shortstop on the Yankees is playing third base because it would be unthinkable to ask the Captain to change positions, despite the very obvious fact that Jeter has the range of a fire hydrant.

Yet there are scribes like Ian O’Connor who give Jeter a complete pass. I can only assume O’Connor Tweeted this with a straight face: “Despite all the sabermetrics, there is a hell of a value in Jeter's ability to turn every ball hit right at him into an out. #yankees”

I pointed out to the brilliant folks at the Crane Pool Forum that a Major League shortstop is supposed to be able to turn every ball hit right to him into an out. Several posters noted that, in fact, minor-league shortstops also are expected to field the ones hit right at them.

Upon further thought, I realized that all players at every level are expected to turn routine plays, even people on my champion coed softball team.

Yet, Jeter has apologists like ESPN’s Joe Morgan, who watch him turn a routine six-bouncer into an out, and proclaim nonsense like “Jeter’s so good, he makes that play look routine.”

Witness the reaction to Jeter’s recent incident of shame against the Rays. A pitch came inside, Jeter leaned back and the ball hit the bat, obvious to all. That would be called a strike on most batters. Yet Jeter started carrying on as if he had not only been hit, but that the ball pounded his hand into hamburger. He was awarded first base, and the next batter hit a home run.

Replays indicated that Jeter is better actor than a shortstop. Exposed as a liar and cheat, Jeter told reporters after the game that it’s his job to get on base any way possible. Funny, but I don’t remember alleged Yankee greats like Gehrig, DiMaggio and Mattingly flopping around and calling for the trainer when they wanted to get on first base. Usually they hit the ball.

But the fawning New York media again gave Jeter a pass, citing his “intangibles.” Imagine how different the reaction would have been had the faker been Carlos Beltran.

Yes, Jeter has five rings. He’s also surrounded in the lineup by at least five All-Stars. Let’s see him take is legendary intangibles to Pittsburgh and take the lowly Pirates to the World Series. That will never happen.

So all of this pent-up angst had built up by the time Jeter stepped into the box against Sox starter Gavin Floyd in the first inning.

Boooooooooooooooooo!

It was a long, heartfelt display that seemed to take the other people in the section by surprise. Frankly, I expected more people to join in. Sox fans were more interested in voicing displeasure toward Nick Swisher, a former under-achieving South Sider now over-achieving with the Yanks.

Jeter meekly popped out the right. This was followed by cheers, followed by Cousin Tim’s legendary “O-ver RA-ted, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap” taunt, which generated a far-greater response at Shea in 2008.

This scenario was repeated in the third and fifth innings, and involved Jeter strikeouts. They were swinging strikeouts, of course, since no umpire is bold enough to call Derek Jeter out on strikes.

We were started to get some cranky looks from a group sitting to our right, all clad in ugly Yankee T-shirts. I did not fear them because, like in a libel case, truth is the best defense and deep down all Yankee fans must know that the emperor isn’t wearing any pinstripes.

I actually missed Jeter being announced in the eighth inning, and the delayed booing at Will’s prompting resulted in Jeter walking, and then advancing to second on a wild pitch.
The scoreboard flashed this international call for mass booing.

Luckily we were afforded one last chance in the top of the ninth, when Derek the Menace strode to the plate with two out.

I let loose with the much-deserved booooooo when the Yankee fans to the right hatched an obviously pre-meditated defense. They were attempting to drown out my boo with cheers. It was six on one.

I would not, could not lose this battle.

I produced a deep, dark, loud boooooooooooooo that arose from the depths of my blue-and-orange soul. It was cathartic. Every injustice endured at the hands of Yankee fans and their media fawners seemed to be set loose, released from my heart and through my cupped hands.

Everything from the McKenna Junior High taunts of 1977 and 1978 through the bat-tossing, Timo-jogging fiasco that was the 2000 Subway series and the Castillo pop drop of '09 had broken loose.

This was, without a doubt, the longest, most resonating booooo I've ever produced. Philadelphia fans strive to create a booo this loud and long. And yet it was purifying all at the same time.

The weak cheers of the T-shirted gang of six were no match for my disgust and suffering. This boo rose from our perch in the upper deck to hover over U.S. Cellular Field like a fog.

This was a boo intended to envelope Jeter in self-awareness and shame. I was expecting him to return to the Yankee bench, plop down – and see his teammates all slide away, disgusted.

I started to feel pity for Jeter. Deep down, he knows the truth. Hype doesn't outlast history.

I’m confident that all 10,000 of the Frank Thomas bobbleheads handed out that day nodded in agreement.

I easily outlasted the Yankee posers. Cleansed of decades of Yankee hurt, I could have continued into extra innings.